Ingenting i Nærheten
by the Last Flowerchild
Summary: Toki has always looked up to and wished that he could be Skwisgaar, but when the time comes for him to prove himself he takes things a little too far in his desperate search to personify godly perfection. Toki/Skwisgaar Pickles/Toki Toki/Ofdensen slash
1. Perfection

**Ahh...I loves me the smell of a fresh, blank ****OpenOffice document at 7 P.M...**

****WARNINGS****

**Slash, drug/alcohol usage, and some bad language**

****DISCLAIMER****

**God damn it, no, I don't own any characters yet!**

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_Time works like acid  
__Stained eyes  
__You see time fly_

_The face changes as the heart beats  
__& breathes_

_We are not constant  
__We are an arrow in flight  
__The sum of the angles of change_

_Her face changed in the car  
__eyes & skin & hair remain  
__the same. But a hundred similar  
__girls succeed each other_

_~~Time Works Like Acid, by Jim Morrison_

_**CHAPTER 1: PERFECTION**_

Nobody would have ever expected that Toki Wartooth would be remembered for much of anything aside from being one of the most successful—though not one of the best—guitarists alive, but now he stood in front a rioting crowd, watching their madness grow by the second. How did this happen, how did it come to this? His new, blond hair blew around him and he just stood there, like always, in the shadow of someone much greater than himself. He was dying. Did he regret the actions that lead up to this point, to this, his probable destruction? No, not at all, but he did find it funny that the whole world could be turned inside out and upside down by just one small kiss; it was a kiss that hadn't been small in all actuality, but the biggest, most monumental meeting of the lips since Adam kissed Eve before making love to her. It began with something small, though, something so miniscule that it was almost laughable. It began with a gold, shining trophy. It, like everything else in this world, began with Skwisgaar Skwigelf.

The rest of the band stood backstage watching as Skwisgaar, dressed in an annoyingly stiff suit, made his way onto the stage, accepted his award from a beautifully dressed model of a woman, and announced into the microphone, "Hey, ja, greats, just what I needs—_another _stupids trophy thing. Honestly, I reallys don't gives a fuck about this award, but thanks. I guess I appreciates it, even though I could be at home fucking some sluts rights now instead of here talking about something thats I don't even wants. Anyways, ja...great. Thanks for votings me-" he glanced down at the trophy and read in his murky English, "-The Great-vest Guitar-God That Ammnest Ever Lived To Be Alive...wows. You guys just keeps making up stupid awards to gives to me, don't you?" he rolled his eyes and tucked some of his blond hair behind his ears.

Meanwhile backstage Toki was watching, his pale eyes focused on the Swede, looking both envious and angry. "Why can'ts I ever gets an award?" he asked Ofdensen, who stood to his right.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Pickles had said, "Dude, you do get awards, like last week you gat 'dat one for-"

"_Kids _gave me thats award, Pickle!" he said in agitation. "I wants a real award, a trophy or somethings! What abouts a star on that sideswalk in that place in Hollys-wood?"

"Don't you mean _Hollywood, _jackash?" Murderface inquired.

Toki shrugged. "That ams what I said."

"Oh God, Ofdensen, he's about to do that thing where he starts sulking again because he's not as good as Skwisgaar." Nathan groaned. "Make him stop!"

"Look, Toki," Ofdensen said gently, placing a supportive hand on the Norwegian's shoulder. "you are a very talented guitarist, but the fact remains that-"

"Usings the world 'talented' very lightly these days, aren't wes?" Skwisgaar inquired as he returned backstage. Carelessly he threw the trophy into a nearby trash can and grabbed himself a drink. Toki watched him with wide eyes.

"Why you throws it away?"

"I ran outs of rooms in my rooms for all 'dem stupids awards." the Swede explained, downing his glass of champagne. "Besides, it ammnest a stupids trophy anyways; I gots a bill-skions more likes it at homes."

"But-"

"Toki, listen to me," Ofdensen said, trying to make the Norwegian understand him. "every band has something called a 'band dynamic', do you understand?"

The guitarist sighed and nodded. He'd received the 'band dynamic' talk at least a hundred times already. "Ja, I understands."

"And you fit into that dynamic by being a favorite of children. They look up to you, Toki. They respect and adore you; isn't that enough?"

He glared down at his boots and mumbled dejectedly, "Well ja, but I don't gets any _trophys _fors it."

Skwisgaar just chuckled and slapped Toki's shoulder playfully. "Comes on, littles Toki, I-"

"I'ms not _little, _Skwisgaar."

"You ammnest pretty short to me." he observed, smiling down at the other guitarist. "Looks, there ams something you gots to understand—the simple fact is that I ammnest just way _betters _than you. Never wills you be able to even be half as goods as me, but you ams adorables for trying." he pulled Toki into a hug and said mockingly, "If I were yous, I would looks up to mes, too. You can'ts help it, I guess; I ams pretty great."

"I ams pretty great toos!" Toki snapped, pushing the Swede away from him.

Nathan just laughed at this then walked away, mumbling, "Yeah, right...who's got a drink? I need a drink."

Ofdensen frowned at this and said to the Norwegian, "Please understand that this isn't a matter of who is better than who, just-"

"No," Skwisgaar agreed. "it ammnest nots, 'cause everyone _knows _that I ams better than Tokis. It ammnest not up for discussions."

"I don't think 'dat—"

"Pickle you ams drunk, so just shuts up." he interrupted, rolling his eyes at the drummer. Pickles just frowned and took a step nearer Toki.

"I ain't that drunk and look, the kid just looks up to you, 'dat's all. You don't gatta be such a dick about it, dude."

"Me beings a dick?" Skwisgaar scoffed. "It ammnest not mysfault if he ams jealous because I gets more moneys, fames, and girls than hims, not to mentions the fact that I have more talent in my index finger than he does in hims entire b-"

"I do haves just as much talent as you, Skwisgaar!" Toki blurted, his face reddening with anger. "And I wills proves it, too!"

Ofdensen glanced nervously from one musician to the other before saying, "Boys, maybe it's best that we don't-"

"You can't even plays one song right, much less proves that you ammnest betters than me." Skwisgaar said, laughing at the Norwegian's anger. "And besides, no matters what you do, you'll always be compared to mes, because I ammnest a Gods, don't you understands that?"

"I coulds be a God!" Toki cried, sniffling. He was nearly crying tears of white-hot anger as he pushed the Swede back a little and insisted, "I'm just as goods as yous are, but nobody ever gives me a chance to proves it! Why can't I haves solos likes you? Why can't I gets all the awards and all the attentions? No, instead you just alls push me back in a corners and expect me to sucks it up! Well you knows what? I'm tired of suckings it up! I'm just as goods—_better _than you are, and I'm goings to prove it."

He chuckled and smiled down at the other guitarist in an incredibly demeaning way. "Oh reallys? How ammnest you goings to dos 'dat?"

"I wants to writes my own solo! That's right, I'll rights it and plays it up onstage in front of everyones, then everyone will knows how much better I ams than you!" Toki said, glaring at the Swede hatefully. "And then _I'll _win all the awards and _I'lls_ be the God, just likes you!" in his mind as he stood there glaring up at Skwisgaar, waiting for him to open his mouth and respond, all he could think of was, _Just likes you...just likes you...just likes you...I'LL be the God..._

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The ride home was a long one. As the car got stuck in traffic, another fight broke out between Skwisgaar and Toki, one which ended with Pickles—who was now drunk—having to slur loudly, "Skizgaar, you know 'dat you didn't-ain't ne'r deserve no award noways, 'cause you're a fuckin' dick-cack-motherfuckin'-sucker."

Toki shrank down in his seat in embarrassment as the drummer fell on his shoulder and downed some more booze. "Thanks Pickle, but I can tells him off myself." he said, trying to shrug the other man off of him.

"Tells me off?" Skwisgaar laughed and crossed his arms over his thin chest. "Ammnest that what you were doings? I couldn't tell."

"Heeeey, shut up." Pickles snapped, spilling some alcohol on Toki's jeans. Unfortunately, the drummer had fought for a seat next to the Norwegian, despite everyone else's comments against it; when he was drunk Pickles had an annoying habit of worsening the band's problems. Now that was just what he did as he slurred drunkenly, "Yeah, you're a fuckin' dick an' you know what? You don't deserve nona the awards you gat, 'cause you suck dick, dude...fuck you."

"Tokis, please keep your littles dog under control." the Swede commented smartly, staring out the window. The Norwegian narrowed his eyes at the blond.

"What you means?"

"Well Pickle ams obviously your bitch, so just keeps him under con-"

"Skwisgaar, Toki, please!" Ofdensen broke in. "I thought we already discussed this whole 'band dynamic' problem."

"Fucks the stupids band dynamic!" Toki cried, punching angrily at the leather seat of the car. The manager frowned at this childish behavior and opened his mouth to say something, but Murderface cut him off.

"Jeesh, you guysh shure do hate each other all of the shudden, don't you?"

Skwisgaar shook his head at this. "Nos, I don't hates him, I just wants him to know how much better than hims I am."

"Fucks you!" Toki hissed angrily. "I'ms tons better than you!"

"S'true, you're _awesome." _Pickles said, closing his eyes. Before he passed out, he mumbled half consciously, _"Awesome..."_

"You wants to write your owns solo?" Skwisgaar challenged. "Fine, gos ahead, but don't expect me to helps you!"

"I won't _needs _your help, stupids ass!"

"Please." he rolled his eyes. "You can't even reads music, but you think you can writes a song by yourskelf? Fines, gos ahead, I'd love to sees it and laugh at you when you gets up on stage to plays it."

Finally they arrived back home; everyone went their separate ways and Toki was left to storm to his own room and slam the door. He went over, retrieved his guitar from its spot beside his bed, and got some paper and a pen. In an instant he was laying on his bed chewing on the pen cap, thinking of what notes to write down. The horrible truth was that he really couldn't read music, he didn't even know where to begin. He just laid there studying the old sheets of music that Skwisgaar had given him for the other _Dethklok _songs like _Thunderhorse _and _Blood Ocean. _Finally he began to visualize what he wanted it to sound like, but when he tried to put it down on paper he still had no clue where to start. Toki sighed in annoyance and threw the pen down.

"Stupids Skwisgaar...it ams always so easy for _him." _he paused, glared down at the sheets of music and added in quiet rage, "Everythings ams easy for him." then he began to think about what he had said before at the awards show. _Just like hims...I'LL be the God... _"Just like Skwisgaar...if I was likes him, then everything woulds be easier..."

What made the Swede so much better than him? Skwisgaar got more girls than him, was more talented than he was, had more fame and more fans, but why? Wasn't Toki just as good as him? No, of course he wasn't, but why not? Was it because he didn't have the Swede's blond hair, his beautiful face, or his slender, tall body? Toki let out an irritated groan and rolled over on his back, stared up blankly at the ceiling. Maybe this had been a mistake. To take on Skwisgaar was certainly the stupidest thing he could've ever done, wasn't it? But if he could actually beat him, then that would make him the best guitarist alive...

Toki ran a hand thru his hair and suddenly began to feel very angry with himself, with the world. He wasn't good enough? Fine, then he'd _make _himself good enough. He'd make up the best song ever, one that was better than anything Skwisgaar could even dream of playing. It would be the fastest, heaviest guitar solo in the history of guitar solos, and Toki Wartooth would be given sole credit to its creation. Just like that, the notes came rushing back to him, and in an instant he was writing down a random assortment of words and drawing pictures on the paper. He didn't know what it would all amount to, only that if this was the best he could do then it would have to be good enough. In the end he had three fronts and back pages of loose leaf full of pictures and explanations of what he wanted to do and how he wanted his solo to sound. It all appeared to be idiotic gibberish, but to Toki somehow it made sense and seemed to make things much clearer.

He had things on the paper such as, _Drop 'D' Tuning in second part...low to high...13__th__ fret...sweep pick it...go down to the LOW C...pick it, don't just pull off..._along with those little notes he mentioned several solos from some of his favorite songs. They were all random and had no real meaning or direction, but to Toki they meant everything. This he wrote in Norwegian for some reason, as if it were some secret code that only he could understand. _Hendrix, Voodoo Barn...Trapp Til Heaven-Zeppelin...Sjel Offer-Santana...Begravet Ved Tid Og Støv-Mayhem...Dance of Death-Iron Maiden..._

Once that was done he picked up his guitar and began playing it fervently, keeping in mind the notes he had scrawled down. Once everything was done he had memorized an effective, oddly amazing heavy solo and he was quite proud of himself. Since he didn't know how to write it down to remember it, he kept playing his solo over and over until his fingers became raw and began to drop blood down onto his sheets. Finally Toki let himself take a break and go to sleep. It was six in the morning—he'd arrived home at seven the night before—and he was exhausted.

Just before he passed out, still hugging his guitar to him, Toki thought of a title for his solo. _Feilfri._

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_Det er OK... det er greit å elske ham?_

_Han er vakkert... Han er utrolig._

_Er ikke han? Er det galt å tenke sånn?_

_Nei._

_Det er rett, fordi det er sannheten._

Toki dreamed something very odd that night. Like so many times before, he dreamed that he was in Skwisgaar's place, had everything that the Swede did and whatever he didn't; for once he was the God, he was the perfect one. The truth was that he always seemed to have dreams about the other guitarist, he always seemed to be thinking of him whether it be because he was jealous of him or just because—was it okay to admit?-he secretly adored him. Yes, Toki thought, he did adore Skwisgaar, much more than anyone could ever know. The truth was that he even had the slightest crush on him.

_Blonde hår, og Golden Sun nåde, hans svært blod og velsignelse..._

[Blond hair, golden like a bit of the sun's grace, its very blood and blessing ...]

_Huden blek og glatt liker snø brukes til å falle i Lillehamer, så ren i sin perfeksjon..._

[Skin pale and smooth like the snow that used to fall in Lillehamer, so pure in its perfection ...]

_Øynene som det dypeste blått på himmelen etter sommeren lyn og torden, full av liv, men også full av sorg for Faderen han hadde aldri møtt. .._

[Eyes like the deepest blue of the sky after a summer lightning storm, full of life, but also full of sorrow for the father he'd never met...]

_Jeg ville elske å se ham, ønsker jeg å føle seg ham ønsker meg. Jeg vil at han skal ta på meg og utleie meg kjører hendene mine gjennom det gyldne håret..._

[I'd love to see him, I want to feel him want me. I want him to touch me and let me run my hands thru that golden hair...]

Toki really didn't see it as a problem that he had a crush on the Swede, only a steady, natural emotion. He was smart enough not to let anyone know, because he knew that if they figured it out he'd be kicked out of the band for sure, but this still didn't stop him from liking the the other man. He dreamed most nights that he and Skwisgaar were sitting together in some far-away place alone, holding hands and talking, but tonight he dreamed something else. He was playing his guitar and Skwisgaar was there, but something was different about him. He seemed to be shining, glittering under Toki's curious gaze. The Norwegian didn't try to kiss the Swede as he so often did in his dreams, but instead he became jealous of his radiant glow and threw down his guitar.

"How come you ams so beautiful and I'm nots?" he demanded.

Skwisgaar just gave him one of his characteristicly cocky smiles and answered, "Because you ammnest _nots _just likes me; you'll _never _be just likes me, Toki. You'll _never, ever _be goods enough, nots ever." then he added in Swedish, _"Jag är er Gud, så du kommer att tillbe mig."_

[I am your God, so you will worship me.]

Toki didn't understand quite what this meant, but he knew that it pissed him off. It made him so angry that all he could think to do was throw his guitar, step on it, and pull a handful of the Swede's hair as hard as he could. Instead of letting out a yell of pain as Toki had wanted and expected him to do, Skwisgaar laughed, laid his hands on the other man's waist, and pulled him over to him. Without hesitation, the Swede kissed Toki, kissed him deeply, and then disappeared into the air with the echoing words of, _"Du är en idiot, Toki, en dum fool... tillbe mig, TILLBE MIG..."_

[You're an idiot, Toki, a stupid fool...worship me, WORSHIP ME...]

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****A/N****

**Yay, done with chapter 1. Hope you enjoyed it and will review it, because as always I appreciate and love to read what you have to say. Also, yeah, some of the translations aren't correct, and that sucks. I tried my best and checked and double-checked the sentences using _Bing Translator _and _Google Translator, _but some of the sentences and statements just weren't working out that well for me, so I just got frustrated and put whatever I could to make it sound right. Other than that I guess there's not much more to say...**

**Peace & Love**


	2. Unexpected Help

_**CHAPTER 2: UNEXPECTED HELP**_

The next morning Toki was awoken by Pickles, who entered his room carrying a large tray of food. He grinned at the Norwegian and put the tray down on the nightstand next to the bed before saying brightly, "Morning, dude. You weren't down at breakfast, so I just figured 'dat-"

"What the hell ams you doing?" Toki asked, getting some of his hair out of his face and sitting up.

The drummer smiled at him in an uncharacteristically sweet, almost adorable way and responded, "You missed breakfast."

"Ja, I knows." he stretched and let out a large yawn before glancing over at the tray of food. "What time ams it?"

"Nine."

"Oh." he picked up the fork and poked at a bowl of scrambled eggs. "I'ms not that hungry."

"What? Why nat?"

There was a slight pause, one in which Toki just peered over at Pickles, laid down his fork, and put his hair behind his ears. The way the drummer was staring at him was odd and mystifying; the Norwegian had never before seen that look on his face. The drummer almost seemed to _care_ about him. Toki frowned at this and remembered how much Pickles had fought to sit next to him on the ride home yesterday. Distractedly he began to play with his hair, twist it around his index finger.

"Dude, aren't you gonna-"

"Pickle, ams there something you wants to tells me?"

Immediately that sweet look faded into one of nervousness. The drummer shook his head and laughed awkwardly. "Whadda mean_ tell you?"_

"I don'ts know, it's just..." Toki's voice trailed off. He sighed and said, "I don't know, I ams just being stupid, I guess. Anyways, what ams the others doing?"

"Nothin' like usual." he cleared his throat and gave the guitarist a little grin. "I heard you playin' last night. You're really good, a lot better than I thought you'd be."

Toki's face lit up with excitement. "Thanks, Pickle!"

"Yeah, I just sorta, y'know, figured 'dat you'd take back what you said, about wanting to write your own solo, but you shouldn't."

The Norwegian arched a brow. "Whys not?"

" 'Cause you're too good for that, dude." Pickles said warmly. "And you know what else? You're too good to have to put up with Skwisgaar's shit. It's time that you start standin' up for yourself." he glanced over at Toki's guitar and added, "Could you maybe play it for me?"

His face quickly grew red as he shook his head. "Nos, it ams not done yet."

"Nat even just a little part?"

"Nos, not now, but maybes later, okay?" innocently he pushed the tray of food back over towards Pickles. "I really needs to practice rights now, though, so coulds you j-"

"_Practice? _Dude, you've been practicin' all night! C'mon and let's just go find Nate'n and Murderface downstairs and do something fun." he got up and walked over to the door, expecting the Norwegian to follow. Toki hesitated, peered down at his guitar, and an unsure frown came across his face.

"Nos," he insisted firmly. "I'm sorrys, but I just reallys have to practice."

"C'man," Pickles begged. "just a little, small break! I'll even play one of them stupid video games that you like so much."

Once again the guitarist's face lit up. Without another second of delay he followed the drummer out of the room, asking joyously, "And I cans be player one?"

He rolled his eyes and said with a false sense of acceptance, "Yeah, you can be whoever the fuck you wanna be, dude."

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After hours of playing mindless video games Pickles managed to talk Toki into letting him hear a little of the solo. They retreated back to the Norwegian's room and each took a seat on the bed. Toki got out his papers of scribblings and presented it to the drummer, saying childishly, "I don't knows how to reads or write music, so that was alls I had to start out with."

Pickles read it over as he listened to Toki play. In the end he sat there across from him with an absolutely amazed look on his face. "Wow." he said, laughing. "Wow."

"Ams that a good wow, or-"

"Oh my Gad...you _made that up?" _he asked miraculously, rereading over the notes on the paper. He shook his head and let out a subtle little, "Amazing kid, I swear..."

"What ams amazing?" Toki inquired, arching a brow and scooting a little closer to the drummer to better see the expression that was on his face. "Did you likes it?"

"Like it? Dude, it was incredible! I can't believe...why didn't you tell us that you could actually play before?"

"You did all knows that I could play before." he answered, a confused look on his face. "Besides, it wasn't that hards to thinks about—I just sat here for a littles while and it came, just likes that. I didn't even write it down."

An alarmed look came across Pickles face. He found himself a pen and more blank sheets of paper before instructing, "Play it again for me and I'll help you learn how to read the notes, alright? You need to know or you'll forget."

"Okays." Toki picked up his guitar and began to play it for a second time, ignoring the stinging pain that was emitting from his fingers as he did this. After a whole night of continuous playing, his nails were ragged and worn, his cuticles torn and sticky with raw, exposed flesh. Somehow he managed to ignore the stinging pain and play his guitar skillfully; his fingers glided over the neck of the guitar faster than he'd thought possible, and once he finished playing the last few cords he looked up and grinned broadly at Pickles, who was still busily writing away.

"Almost gat it...play that last part for me again? I didn't catch the notes..." Toki played it over and watched as he wrote something else down onto the paper. Once he was done he passed the paper to the Norwegian and announced, "Here it is, all ready to be played."

"I didn't know you coulds write guitar music." Toki commented, reading over the paper with a puzzled look on his fair face.

Pickles seemed almost insulted by this. "Course I can. I played a Goldtop in _Snakes 'N Barrels, _'member?"

"Oh ja, I forgots." he laid the paper down and admitted finally, "This ams really great and I really appreciates it, but I can't read it. I don't even knows where to starts. Maybe you could..." he shrugged awkwardly, laid down his guitar, and asked shamefully, "Teach me?" it seemed like such a stupid question—he was the rhythm guitarist for the greatest band in the world, but he didn't even know how to read music? What kind of idiot was he? Clearly Pickles didn't see it this way; he acted as if this were the most intelligent question in the world as he picked up the paper and pointed to it with his pen.

"Sure, it ain't hard. Just look here, the first few cords are..." and just like that he was giving Toki a complicated lesson on how to read music. This lasted for two hours, but the drummer was patient and warm, encouraging the guitarist to ask questions as he saw the need.

Finally Toki just let out a frustrated sigh and said, "Pickle, you ams a great teacher and everythings, but I just don't gets it."

"S'fine," he said kindly, giving him a supportive little smile. "I didn't expect you to get it, nat on just the first try." the he peered down at the paper and shook his head. "Fuck, who'm I kidding? It would've been a damn miracle if you woulda gotten it an your first try; it took me a whole fuckin' year to learn how to really read music."

The Norwegian gave him a surprised look. "A wholes year? I don't haves that long." he began to panic suddenly, realizing just how bad his situation was. "What ams I going to do? If I can't reads it, then how-"

"Dude, just relax. I'll get it thru to you, don't worry." and the drummer got up, patted Toki's shoulder, and added, "Just give me two days, 'dat's all I need, I swear. You'll see, in two days you'll be readin' music _better _than Skwisgaar. You'll be-"

Suddenly the door to Toki's room opened and Skwisgaar stepped in, an oddly concerned look on his face once he saw the sheet of music and the guitar. "Uh...sorrys," he mumbled, going back out again. "I didn't means tos interrupt yous or anything."

"Nah, it's cool," Pickles said, walking over to him. "I was just about to leave anyways." he walked out of the room, but not before turning and giving Toki one last encouraging little smile. "Don't worry," he repeated, "we'll get it."

"Sures we will." he agreed, folding up the sheet of music that the drummer had written. He tucked it safely into the pocket of his jeans before motioning for Skwisgaar to enter. "You can comes in now, idiot."

"Stills with the idiot?" The Swede asked almost hurtfully as he closed the door and turned to Toki. "I would have thoughts that you would bes over it by now."

"_Overs it?" _the Norwegian chuckled and shook his head. "Skwisgaar, there ams nos getting over this; I'm going to dos a solo and that's that."

He sighed in irritation. "I was afraids you woulds say that." thoughtlessly he crossed over to the other side of the room and took a seat on the bed across from Toki. "Looks, I'm going to makes this simple for you, okay? I know that you ammnest reallys mad at me right now, but you needs to get over it for your owns sake."

"_My _sake?"

"Ja, because listens—I'm always goings to be sos much gooder than yous, sos-"

"No," Toki said, glaring at him. "you're nots, and if you think you are, then that ams reallys sad for you; I'll show you, Skwisgaar. Everyone knows that I ams just as good as you, even Pickle!"

The Swede scoffed at this. "Pickle ammnest a drunks!"

"He wasn't drunk when he saids it!" at the astonished look on the other guitarist's face, Toki nodded and said coldly, "Ja, he saids I was better than you, _way _better. He saids-"

"Okays look," now Skwisgaar sounded brisk, annoyed. He narrowed his eyes at the other man and said snappishly, "just don't dos the solo, okay? I know what I'm talking abouts, trust me. You'll just gets up on that stage ands um-barrass yourskelf. Don't dos it."

"If all you're here to do is talks me out of it, then just piss offs, dildo!" Toki snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm going to dos it no matter what you think or say, so just leaves me alone!" Skwisgaar rolled his eyes and stormed out of the room, completely enraged by the other guitarist's childish behavior. Once he had left, Toki let out a little disgusted curse then resumed practicing on his guitar. For the next three hours he sat there, his eyes closed, his fingers strumming quickly over the strings as his mind began to wander off.

He thought about Pickles and the odd affection he always gave him. Why? Toki wasn't anyone special, so why did the drummer seem to care so much? His kindness hadn't just begun this morning with the breakfast, it was the latest in a series of long, overly friendly deeds. Toki didn't understand it, but the more he thought about it the more he seemed to sense that there was something very odd about Pickles. The drummer never really could take his eyes off of Toki, not since the day that he had arrived in the band...then there was Skwisgaar. Thinking about him was enough to make the Norwegian blush and miss a note. In frustration he began playing all the way at the beginning of the song, ignoring the fact that his fingers were once again being turned into beds of raw, bleeding flesh. Skwisgaar. Toki smiled and shyly bit his lip. The first moment he'd met the Swede he'd known that their rivalry was a heated one and that one day he'd have to either prove himself or bow down to the Swedish god, but he also felt an unyielding, mysterious attraction to him. The first night he stayed in the Mordhaus these new and strange emotions had confused and annoyed him—he_ had_ to be around Skwisgaar, _had _to be his only source of attention as long as possible—so he'd tried to block them out, but that proved an impossible task.

Now Toki sat there alone in his room, the notes of his guitar echoing in the vast emptiness of it. Blood from his ragged fingers stained his sheets as he relentlessly played his Gibson. The Norwegian's didn't realize just how exhausted he was from staying up the night before, but now it was beginning to catch up with him. Without realizing quite what he was doing, Toki relaxed, let out a large yawn, but shook himself before he could really fall asleep; he couldn't take a nap, there was still more practicing to do! But he was so tired...maybe just one little, five-minute nap couldn't hurt...who knows, maybe if he just closed his eyes and let himself rest for a few minutes, he'd be as fresh as new.

Maybe...

...maybe.

**{} }}{{}}{}{}{{}}{{ {} }}{{}}{}{}{{}}{{ {}**

_Gå vidare, min Toki. Gå och genera själv..._

"Shuts up...I'm not going to embarrass myself..."

Skwisgaar laughed darkly. "Of course you wills and I'll be right there, laughing with everyone else..."

Toki was there again, in his dream-land. Like always he was with Skwisgaar, laying in his arms, sobbing and trembling. He almost felt revolted by the other guitarist and more than anything he wished that he could just get up and walk away from him, but for some reason he couldn't. Something was holding him back. He opened his eyes, met the Swede's deep blue gaze, and swallowed. "You're afraid I'll be betters than you?"

He laughed again and shook his head, ran a hand thru Toki's long, brown hair. "Stupids idiot, I'm not afraid for me, I'm afraid for _you."_

"Fors me?"

"Do you really thinks you can outdo me?" Skwisgaar smiled mockingly down at the Norwegian and said in a cold, honest whisper, "You thinks you can beat me, that you cans beat perfection?" when Toki said nothing, only gave him a hopelessly clueless stare, the Swede added, "Don't you know that I ammnest perfect and you...well, just takes my word for it, you'll _never _be likes me, _never."_

"Yes I will. I-"

"But you're nots perfect, Toki." Skwisgaar leaned a little closer to the other man, licked his lips. "I ams."

"There isn't any such thing as perfect, Skwisgaar." the Norwegian said almost fearfully, once again trying to get up. Still something held him there, but what? All at once he was crying again, lying naked in Skwisgaar's arms, totally unprotected and exposed. The Swede just snickered wickedly and kissed him passionately. Toki broke away, still crying. "Lets me go. Why can't you just let me gets up and leave?"

"Toki," he answered piteously, "you _cans _gets up and walk away any time you wants to—I'm not holdings you back."

The Norwegian looked around, sniffled, and discovered that he was quite alone now in that dream-world, lying on his back naked under the pale light of a crescent moon. He wiped his teary eyes and sat up, let out a nervous little whimper. "S-Skwisgaar? Where dids you-" just as he raised a hand to put some of his hair behind his ears, he discovered that his fingers were coated in a sticky, fresh layer of blood. All at once he was horrified and he tried to cry out but was met with silence. The only thing that Toki could do was sit there and watch his own blood run down his arm in little, snaking streams of crimson.

After long minutes of this torture, something odd happened; slowly that running redness began to turn into beautiful, silvery liquid that glowed and illuminated the entire night. Toki's pale eyes grew wide as he watched his crystal-glowing blood drop in thick, heavy drops. _Plop. Drip, drop, plop. _The drops hit the ground heavily but didn't lose their glow. Soon Toki was sitting in a magnificent pool of his blood and every feeling of discomfort had left him. Was this perfection? In the back of his brain the image of Skwisgaar from his dream before came racing back to him. He remembered how bright the Swede had seemed, how he had glowed so vibrantly and appeared to be brighter than the stars themselves. Toki let out a little laugh and smiled at this thought. He was perfection—he was like Skwisgaar.

Despite this new found joy, Toki was still thrust into another dream. Now he was no longer that crystal-blood angel, but a normal mortal. Skwisgaar was smiling above him, his golden hair hanging in beautiful golden waves about his shoulders. He stood in front of the Norwegian, unclothed and glowing in his usual perfection. Toki went to cover his eyes from this painful brightness, but in a moment the Swede was on top of him, kissing him and toying with him. _"Du är mitt." _he breathed, kissing Toki again; he forced his tongue inside of the other man's mouth, teased and tormented him until he had to pull away and catch his breath. Of all the dreams the Norwegian had ever had of the Swede, this was the best.

He could almost feel Skwisgaar's pulsing erection and nearly see the pre cum dripping from the head of his own cock. Without restraint he pressed his body to Skwisgaar's, let the Swede kiss him again and again, bite him and scratch him and pull his hair roughly. _"Jeg elsker deg," _Toki moaned, biting his lower lip as Skwisgaar nipped at the sensitive skin of his neck. Suddenly the Swede began laughing; he pressed Toki to the ground, restrained his wrists, and leaned close to him.

In a delicately evil, wicked voice he whispered in the Norwegian's ear, "Nos, my Toki, you ammnest not in love with me, you're in love with what I am."

Toki let out a weak little moan of pleasure. "W-What ams you?"

"Idiot." a knowing smile came across Skwisgaar's face as he said coolly, "Don't you know? I'ms perfect."

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****A/N****

**I recently received an interesting comment from a reader. It is actually a really smart comment and although it isn't a question, I feel the need to elaborate on it anyway. The comment was this: _...one thing i always notice when i read your work is that you write thru instead of through. that's the only error i've ever noticed though! _Diane, you bring up a detail in my work that I've just been waiting for someone to mention. The reason that I do this is because one of my heroes is the late Jim Morrison, a poet and singer. He used the term 'thru' in many of his poems. For example: **

**'An angel runs  
****Thru the sudden light  
****Thru the room...'**

**'Now I can't walk thru a city  
****street w/ out eying each  
****single pedestrian. I feel  
****their vibes thru my  
****skin, the hair on my neck  
****-it rises.'**

**'...Wind whistles thru my mind  
****& soul  
****My life is an open book...'**

**There are also many more examples for where he uses the word 'thru' instead of 'through'. I guess I do it too as a way of sort of honoring him...I know it may sound stupid and ridiculous, but it's just a little thing I like to do for his memory. Anyways, thanks for the review. I appreciate it. ^.^**

**Peace & Love**

**[theLastFlowerchild on deviantart]**


	3. The Nameless Reflection

_**CHAPTER 3: THE NAMELESS REFLECTION **_

"Look, just try to concentrate, 'kay? It ain't hard." Pickles said as he sat next to Toki, pointing to the sheet of music notes.

The Norwegian, who was holding the guitar so tightly that his knuckles were white, let out a frustrated sigh and snapped, "I'ms trying! It's really hard and you ams not a good teacher!"

"Sorry." the drummer's face reddened as he rose from his seat and prepared to leave.

Toki pulled him back down, however, and said with an unexpected sweetness, "It ams okay, I know you're trying. It can't be easy teaching someone like me anythings."

Pickles frowned in confusion and arched a brow. "Someone like you? What's 'dat supposed to mean?"

The guitarist just smiled and laid his guitar down next to his bed. He turned to Pickles and said simply, "I'ms an idiot, that's all."

"What? No you're n-"

"You don't haves to lie and say I'm not. Boy," he said, looking out the window of his room. "it sure ams a nice day, huh?" he'd woken up this morning and as soon as he had Pickles had been waiting outside of his room half asleep with a tray of food. Toki had asked him how long he'd been there and the drummer had responded with, 'I dunno, probably since four this mornin'...' Now they sat across from each other on the bed, both clearly frustrated. Pickles just gave Toki a little encouraging smile and reached over.

He patted the Norwegian's shoulder lightly and said, "Dude, you're nat stupid, it's just 'dat learning music is hard. It's hard for everybody. Not even Skwisgaar knows how to do it."

There was a long moment of silence between them. For Toki, it was a deliberate silence; he carried out as long as he could, just to see how Pickles would react to it, whether or not he'd take his hand off of his shoulder. The drummer just sat there, still touching him, a far-off look in his eyes. After a long minute, Toki finally dared to say, "Pickle, I needs your help."

"Sure," he said kindly. "what is it?"

"It ams about..." he hesitated, thought how he should bring it up, and finally said, "...sex."

His face seemed to grow as red as his hair then, but he didn't back down. He just sputtered mindlessly, "Y-Yeah, sure, alright. I—yeah, whadda need?"

Toki looked down at his nonexistent nails, wished he had some to nervously pick, then murmured shamefully, "Pickle, have you ever dreamed of havings sex?"

"I...uh..." he seemed to think that he was falling into some sort of trap as he nodded and finally managed to say, "Sure I have."

"With, you knows, some other guy?"

Now the drummer turned to an ashen, frightened color. He swallowed nervously and let out an awkward chuckle. "I—course I haven-"

"Thinks really hard abouts what you tell me," Toki warned, staring at him intently. " 'cause I'm goings to makes you gets up and leave if you try to gives me some bullshit answer."

"I...I..." finally he broke down and admitted, "Yeah, I have, okay? Tons of times."

"Abouts who? Another guy in the bands, maybe?"

Pickles let out a weak squeak of fear and tried to get up again and to make a hasty exit, but Toki caught him and stood up as well. The Norwegian blocked his way and pushed him back down on the bed again, determined to get an answer. "Tells me the truth, Pickle. I really, really needs to know."

"Fine." he sighed and looked away, clearly ashamed with him himself as he admitted, "Yeah, I have, alright? I've dreamed about having sex with another guy who's in the same bad as me. Does 'dat make you happy, to know 'dat I'm kinda a queer?"

"Who do you dreams about?" Toki wondered, pressing a little closer to the drummer. He remembered how Skwisgaar had kissed him in his dream, tried to replay that scene in his mind again and again in preparation for what he was about to do. It wasn't his fault—he'd thought about getting with Pickles before—he was horny and he needed someone to screw, he really did, and if the drummer was willing, then there wasn't a problem, was there? All at once Pickles was turning away from him, trying to walk out of the room again, but before he could go Toki called to him, " 'Cause I dreams abouts someone, too. It ams not just you whose kinds of...well, you knows...queer."

The drummer hesitated and turned to face him, a puzzled look on his scarlet face. "Who is it that you dream about?" Toki smiled over to the drummer and slowly made his way over to him.

Pickles was barley breathing and his face blushed deeply as the Norwegian came up to him and whispered, looking down at the ground, "I can'ts say, but haven't you ever just reallys been curious abouts-"

"Hey, dude, I..." he glanced towards the door and smiled nervously. "I gatta go, alright." he reached for the doorknob, but Toki's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. "Dude, what're you..." his voice trailed off as the Norwegian held his hand, smiled down at it. Toki closed his eyes and kissed Pickles' palm, let his lips run gently over the flesh. The drummer just stood there, panting, a look of pure shock on his face until he finally snapped, "Okay! Dude, stop!"

"Nos." he said flatly, pressing his body to the other man's.

"But..." Pickles swallowed and went to run a hand along the small of Toki's back, but stopped.

This made the guitarist smile and murmur hotly, "Gos ahead, you can touch me, I don't mind." when Pickles still remained still, he urged, "Touch me."

"Can't." he said finally, slowly pulling away from the Norwegian.

"Whys not?" Toki arched a brow.

" 'Cause I-"

"You dreams abouts me, Pickle?" when no answer came, the guitarist pressed his hips against the drummer's, let Pickles feel his tense and longing body, then whispered, "You dreams about me, don't you?"

"Every night." he dared to press a trembling hand to Toki's cheek and smile unsure at this action. "Is 'dis okay, y'know, if I touch you?"

"Ja, it ams good." the guitarist's eyes closed again and he imagined Skwisgaar touching him like this, caressing his cheek just so and making him quake with desire. Suddenly he found himself forcing the drummer to the wall, still trapped in his delusion of the blond Swede; he kissed Pickles deeply, let his tongue enter his mouth, and encouraged him to do more. Clearly the redhead was taken aback, because all he could do was allow himself to stand there, let Toki taste the inside of his mouth so easily.

Gradually the kiss was ended; both of them were panting, blushing deeply. "T-Toki, I-"

"Comes here." the guitarist said longingly, leading Pickles over on the bed. The drummer laid down and watched as the Norwegian removed his shirt, climbed on top of him, and kissed him over and over. Toki remembered his dream from the night before and soon he was nipping the drummer, begging him for more. "Comes on," Toki pleaded, touching the drummer's erection thru the fabric of his pants. "fuck me, dos it."

"You really want me to do that?" he asked hopefully. When the guitarist nodded, Pickles hugged him close, kissed his forehead. The more he held the Norwegian there, though, the greater a sense of shame began to grow within him. He touched Toki's lower back, felt him tremble, and heard him cry out, "Pickle!" but knew that there was something amiss. The drummer released the other man and asked, trying to hide his embarrassment and pain, "You never told me who you dream of."

"It doesn't matter," he answered, kissing Pickles again. "just fucks me already. _Please, _I needs it so bad..."

"No, not until-" his voice broke and he had to pause for a moment before finally managing to say, "Who is it?" No answer. Pickles' green eyes bore into Toki's pale ones as he asked quietly, "It ain't me, is it?"

"Nos."

"Then who?"

The Norwegian looked away. "You know whos it ams."

Pickles' face was overtaken by an expression of pure, unexpected horror as he sat up and shook his head. "No, dude, please don't do this to me, not _now, _not whenever we were about to..." he sighed heavily and then rose up from the bed. Carefully he reached over, ran a hand thru Toki's hair, and inquired tenderly, "Dude, _I love you. _I know you probably don't believe it, but I love you. I just wish you—hell, I wish that _anyone—_would love me back. Thanks, though. I appreciate this—gettin' half naked and tryin' to talk me into fuckin' you. It was great."

"Pickle, wait!" Toki called, latching onto the drummer's shirt. "Don't leaves! I _needs _it, Pickle, I reallys d-"

"Why, so you can just get fucked and think of him?" Pickles rolled his eyes and said, his voice full of hurt, "Gad, Toki, I knew you looked up to him, but...can't you see that I'm better for you than he is? Dude, I'd take such good care of you. I'd love you forever, but Skwisgaar's just-"

"How do you know it ams him?"

He scoffed. "It'd take an idiot not to notice. Look, I just-" Pickles bit his lower lip in a display of hopeless shyness and then said, "-I love you. I've always loved you, but now it's different. Now you're growin' up on me and I don't know what to do. Just don't grow up too much, alright, kid?"

"Buts-" just like that he was gone and Toki was left to sit there on his bed, shirtless and alone.

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Practice, practice. He had to be perfect, the solo had to be_ feilfri. _Yes, he was a God, he was so close to that point of imaginary Nirvana. He was so close to getting to that place he'd dreamed about, that place where fans would look up to _him, _where he could get anyone in the world he wanted, where he was the sexiest, smartest, most talented, and most perfect person in the world. The more he played the better he felt, so the rest of the next three days were spent in total isolation from the rest of the world—Toki became his own God. Finally, on the eve of the third day, he was forced to stop his playing and finally take a break. His fingers, once so perfect and smooth, soft from lack of work—or guitar practice—were now blistered and nothing but sensitive and sore messes of blood and flesh. As Toki laid down his guitar, he stared down at them, a puzzled look on his face.

He didn't feel pain; true, he felt a small amount of discomfort, but not the agony he'd expect himself to feel at having nearly worn his nails down to the bone. They had gone beyond the point of hurt and become numb. Toki curled his hands into fists, felt a sharp, horrible pain race thru the nerves in his fingers all the way up to his hands and to his arms. He let out a terrible scream at this, but didn't allow himself to let his hands relax. He just sat there bearing the pain, clearing his mind from everything else. He usually did this in times of turmoil—causing himself intentional pain was sometimes the only way that Toki was able to get thru his life day by day. After all, hadn't his father told him that pain was the only indicator that you were alive? Toki felt tears rolling down his fair cheeks as the agony in his hands became unbearable. Finally he let himself relax and uncurled his fists, let the blood that was leaking from his fingers fall onto his sheets.

"_Dette er det, dette er meg, dette er perfeksjon." _he said to himself, sucking on his index finger. He tasted the metallic blood, felt it coat the inside of his mouth and warm his tongue. His spit made the rawness of his finger burn like something worse than fire, but he managed to ignore it and whisper aloud, _"Jeg er så god som noen Gud."_

Yes, he was almost as good as a God, almost as good as Skwisgaar, but he was missing something. Toki frowned as he considered the Swede. With his perfect body, luxurious hair, and talent he left nothing to be desired, and that's just what Toki needed. What made Skwisgaar so successful and perfect? The Norwegian sighed as he wondered this. He couldn't grow taller or any thinner than he was now, so what else could he do to make himself perfect? The answer came as he habitually ran a blood-soaked hand thru his hair. Yes, that was it. Skwisgaar was so golden, like he'd fallen from the sun up above. Toki was not anything near that beautiful.

The Norwegian thought about this and rose up from his bed. He went into his bathroom and stared into a mirror that hung above the sink, a discouraged frown on his face. Blood dripped down his forehead from when he'd run his hand thru his hair, making him look as though he'd just been in a fight; Toki wiped it away but not before seeing the reflection of his hands in the mirror. He let out an angered cry at their disgusting state and tried to rinse the blood from them, but the redness wouldn't completely disappear. In the end he was left to stand in front of the mirror gripping the counter hard, his knuckles white, with his face turned down, staring into the sink as his blood ran down the drain. Disgusting, he was disgusting like this. He felt some irresistible force pushing his head up, prying his pale eyes open, trying to make him meet the gaze of his own horrible reflection in the mirror. He stared at himself for what seemed like hours before placing a crimson-drenched hand to the glass and letting it slide down slowly. He watched his blood run down the glass and shut his eyes.

"_Jeg er... hvem? Hva er jeg?"  
__[I am...who? What am I?]_

He was not golden, he was not admired, he was a pitiful, groveling little beast. Toki began to sob as he met his reflection's gaze in the mirror. "I can'ts do this," he mumbled to himself, observing his stringy, greasy hair—he hadn't washed it in days—and dark, exhausted-looking eyes. "I can't competes with Skwisgaar...he ams too perfect, nothings like me..._jeg ingenting." _

Still, there was a miniscule flicker hope that lead him out of the bathroom and out the door of his room. He would be like Skwisgaar one way or another, even if it meant sacrificing himself.

**{} }}{{}}{}{}{{}}{{ {} }}{{}}{}{}{{}}{{ {}**

It was a carefully guarded secret by everyone in the Mordhaus; Skwisgaar sometimes dyed his hair to keep it looking so perfectly golden and warm. Of course it still gleamed that yellowish blond on its own, but sometimes the Swede would get paranoid, think he saw one trace of a gray hair, and dye the hell out of it until it was nothing but a limp, straw-like mess on top of his head. Toki knew this and he knew where Skwisgaar hid his boxes of hair dye. Carefully he opened the door to the other guitarist's room and poked his head inside. Thankfully nobody was there, so he didn't hesitate to go inside, close the door, and quickly make his way over to the bathroom. He opened the cabinet under the sink and rooted around for a while, but just as he had his hand on the box of dye, from outside there came a loud slam. Toki froze and peeked out the partially opened door of the bathroom. He couldn't see much, but he could make out the tall, slender from of Skwisgaar pacing restlessly across his solid white room.

"I don't gets it, Nathans," he said, pausing to stare out of his bedroom window. He put his hands on his hips and sighed loudly. "I've tried to talks him out of it, but-"

Then another, much deeper and harsher voice spoke. "You know how dumb the kid can be sometimes..."

"But usually he doesn't stays mad at me for this longs! I'm really startings to worry abouts him." Skwisgaar did indeed sound stressed as he stared out of that window. "He just don't seem rights anymore, does he?"

"I don't know." the singer responded, going over and standing next to the Swede. "I haven't seen him out of his room in forever, so-"

"Neither haves I, but Pickle says that he ams practicing aways up there!" now Skwisgaar let his forehead rest against the cool glass of the window. Tiredly he added, "It ammnest reallys worrying me...I talked to Ofdensen, asked him to trys and makes Toki stop, but he says there amment anythings he can do abouts it."

"It's all up to the kid now." Nathan said darkly, glaring down at his boots. In his hiding place in the bathroom Toki was now trembling with anger and fear, trying hard to contain himself. He squeezed the box of hair dye so tightly that blood began leaking from his fingers again; the raw flesh made sick squelching noises as his grip tightened.

He hated them for talking like this, absolutely wanted to kill them for it, but the more he stared at Skwisgaar like that, the longer he watched him standing there looking so tired and—for once—human, the more he wanted to just go out and kiss him, touch him, get naked for him...Toki swallowed and curled into a ball, prayed that they wouldn't enter the bathroom. Still he held that dye, so determined to go thru with his plan. After another moment of meaningless talking, Nathan said goodbye and left. Skwisgaar still stood for a while there in front of the window, but soon he regained his senses and kicked off his boots, undid his belt, and slipped out of his pants. Toki watched in lustful admiration as Skwisgaar stripped down to his underwear then crawled into his bed. The Norwegian watched him thru the slight crack in the door for minutes before finally risking taking a full peek outside.

Skwisgaar was snoring now, lying on top of his covers with his hair spread out around his shoulders, obscuring his face. He was lying on his flat stomach, his arms and legs spread out over the majority of the bed, and he was also mumbling a little in Swedish. Toki took a step out of the bathroom and knelt down next to Skwisgaar, watched him steadily breathe and shift in his sleep. Once again it struck him just how mortal and almost innocent the Swede appeared like that, drowning in his private dream-filled sleep. Toki wondered what the Skwisgaar was dreaming about and carefully reached out a hand to try and touch the other man's arm, but pulled back once he realized that it was still wet with blood. Gently he pressed his lips to Skwisgaar's cheek and whispered, "Dreams of me, okay? Maybe once all of this is over and I'm nots so mad at you, we cans finally get together."

Skwisgaar's lips moved and he let out a little groan then, _"Älska mig, älska mig, älska mig..."_

"What?" Toki mumbled, leaning a little closer to him, a brow arched. _"Fortell meg igjen?"_

He just let out a tired sigh then breathed, a look of distress on his slightly hidden face, "Better, you ammnest betters..." then his voice trailed off and he was snoring loudly; he rolled over onto his stomach and hugged a pillow to his naked and bony chest. Toki frowned and rose to his full height. In a second he had left the room, his face blushing.

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By nine the next morning Toki had a fresh head of blond hair and he had bandaged his hands. After the dying was done he went and stared at himself in front of the mirror and smiled at his new reflection. Yes, he could see himself improving, slowly becoming good enough. Still there were things he wanted to change about himself, but that would come later. Now he just went downstairs and joined everyone else for breakfast. That was the worst thing that he could've done.

As he entered the dining room and took his seat, Pickles smiled over at him—clearly he'd gotten over the events of their previous meeting—and asked, "Hey, dude. You came down for breakfast today?"

"Ja, of course. Why would I miss it?" he said cheerfully, digging into the plate of food that Jean-Pierre placed before him. Everyone else just stared at him with wide, horrified eyes. Slowly their gazes shifted to rest upon Skwisgaar, whose face had turned a pale color, much like that of a ghost. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come out, so Toki just gave him a malicious little smirk and inquired, "Ams something wrong, Skwisgaar?" he took a sip of coffee and ate some more, never breaking his unnerving gaze from the other guitarist.

It took a while for Skwisgaar to regain his voice, but once he had he was livid. "Tokis, what the fucks did you do to your hair, you fuckings idiot? It ammnest-"

"Blond, I knows." he laughed coldly and added, "I _dyed _it that ways."

"Why? How could you do 'dat to me, you littles prick?" Skwisgaar cried, jumping to his feet and throwing his fork down. Nathan, Murderface, and Pickles didn't dare say anything. They knew well that it wasn't their place to interfere, so they just silently continued eating as Toki spoke.

"Why? Why did I dos it? Don't you know?" he snickered.

"Don't I know what, that you're trying to steals my whole life?" now the Swede was nearly sobbing as he went over to where the Norwegian sat and got in his face. "What are you tryings to do? Why do you hates me so much? You're stealings my hair, my fucking place in the band, and...ands..."

"Ands what, Skwisgaar?" Toki asked coolly, drinking down some more coffee. "You don't feels _bad, _do you? You don't feel useless and pitifuls, right?" when the Swede said nothing, just continued to stare at him with his sad, confused deep blue eyes, Toki hissed, "Well that ams good for you! Maybe now you know what it ams like to be me, to be a normals person, nots a stupids God!"

"A stupids _what? _Toki, you ammnest not even makings se-"

"You're stills way more gooder than me, though, right?" the Norwegian inquired, narrowing his eyes at Skwisgaar. "So you should be able to keeps yourself together, right?"

"T-Toki," he said, nearly crying. "why ammnest you doings this to me?"

"You dids it to yourself." he said emotionlessly, blowing on his steaming coffee. Toki seemed calm, coldly precise and calculating as he spoke each and every word. Everyone else stared at him now with looks of amazement on their faces. They'd never seen their little Norwegian brother like this before, so ruthless and vicious, and it scared the hell out of them. Who would be next to have to face his cold wrath, his senseless anger and cold resentment?

Skwisgaar, not knowing quite what else to do, backed away from Toki and swallowed down his tears. He spoke flatly and directly to the other guitarist, trying to seem like his old strong and confident self, but failed miserably at it. Instead he just seemed weak and powerless. "You ammnest reallys fucked up in the head if you think that just because you gots the same hair as me that I'ms just going to back down and let you be lead guitarist."

"It ams not about the stupids band or being the leads guitarist." Toki said bluntly. The Swede arched a brow.

"Then what ammenst it abouts?"

He thought about this for a second before answering. "I don't reallys know, but whenever I finds out I'll let you know."


	4. Reason To Worry

_**CHAPTER 4: REASON TO WORRY**_

Days passed and Toki gradually became, once again, more alienated from the rest of the band. Skwisgaar refused to be in the same room as him, and the others were oddly unnerved by his surprising new hair color. Nathan gave the guitarist odd looks, Murderface tried not to make any contact with him at all, but Pickles, like always, was just as friendly as ever. Toki accepted this and continued his own schedule of rigorous, merciless guitar practice—his hands were now constantly wrapped in layers of gauze, but not even that hid the red bloodstains—and utter isolation. Getting back at Skwisgaar had been nice, and the next time Toki got his revenge it would be even bigger. The Swede would absolutely have to think differently of him then...

Toki's sudden success on the guitar didn't escape the notice of the band's manager, who by now was concerned with far bigger things other than the 'band dynamic'. He called the Norwegian into his office one day and bid him to sit down. "Toki," he said in his usual seriousness. "I think that we need to talk about something."

"Abouts my solo?" his new blond hair was neatly tucked behind his ears, exposing his great, pale and glittering eyes to the other man.

Ofdensen found those wondrous eyes quite unnerving, but he tried to ignore them as he nodded and said cordially, "Some of the behavior you've exhibited over the past few weeks...well, it makes me worry. It makes all of us worry."

Toki rolled his eyes. "Alls of you meaning like Skwisgaar, rights?"

"In a way, yes, but what I'm mainly concerned about is-"

"I'm not goings to quit my solo," he said flatly, narrowing his eyes at the other man. "because it ams a chance for me to actually makes my _own _guitar identity and tos-"

"I'm not asking you to quit, Toki." Ofdensen interrupted, pouring himself a small glass of brandy. He offered it to the guitarist, who politely shook his head. "All I'm asking is that you maybe tone things down a bit. It hasn't been easy getting along with someone who has as big an ego as Skwisgaar, I know, but please just try to understand his position."

"I dos." he said, watching his manager down the glass of brandy then pour himself another. "I understand more than ever what it ams like to be him—all the fans, fames, money, and stuff must get to be reallys a problem, huh? Boy, I wish I hads all that stuff to think about." he rested his head on his hand and sighed in thought. "But after this solo I'll be just like hims, so I won't have to be so sads anymore."

"Toki, you're fine the way you are." Ofdensen said solemnly. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that before?"

The Norwegian thought for a moment before shaking his head. "Nos, not really, 'cause I'm _nots _fine the way I am—the way I _was, _buts I'm getting better now. Looks at me, I'm kind of perfect now, right?"

"Hmm." he frowned and then took a sip from his glass of brandy. After a long moment of contemplation Ofdensen finally said, "Toki, I think that maybe perhaps this is a matter that's bigger than both of us—you, me, and maybe Skwisgaar. I think that it might be beneficial for you to see a councilor."

His face became full of worry. "Likes what do you mean? A therapist?"

"I didn't say that, all I said was-"

"Nos!" Toki cried, shaking his head. "Absolutleys not!"

Ofdense gave him a serious look. "I'm sorry to say that it's what I think is best, so either you agree to see a counselor about this sudden and disturbing new obsession you have with Skwisgaar, or you don't do your solo—your choice."

The Norwegian's face grew pale. It wasn't as though he felt like he didn't need a therapist—something inside of him had always secretly thought he needed one—but it was more of a matter of finding out if something was truly _wrong _with him. Toki had always feared that other people might see that there was something wrong with him emotionally, and the thought of everyone knowing was mortifying. He shook his head, said again, "Nos, there ams no way that I'm going to go talk to some stranger abouts my problems—not that I haves any, it's just-"

"Toki, can I ask you something?" when the guitarist said nothing, Ofdensen ventured to inquire, "Do you think that you have a problem?"

"I—nos, no way."

He seemed unconvinced. "Because if you did then you know that we could probably buy medication to help solve i-"

"Please don't takes away my solo." Toki pleaded, losing all of his previous stability. All at once he was sobbing, struggling to keep himself from crawling over to Ofdensen and _begging _him to have mercy. This solo was what he had worked his whole life to achieve, and now that it was practically here he couldn't deny the fact that he wanted it; he _needed _it. "Please, please, please, I'll do anythings..."

Ofdensen was clearly taken aback by his sudden pleading, because in a moment he was shaking his head and saying in a firm voice, "No, Toki, I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be. I don't like what you've been doing and saying lately, and this is the only way that I see to put an end to it."

"But I _needs _it!" he sobbed, rising up from his chair and crossing over to the other side of the desk, to where Ofdensen sat calmly. Toki fell to his knees and hugged the other man's legs; just as he did this old, buried feelings emerged within him, ones that he'd stored away since the day Pickles had rejected him. Ofdensen was like a father to him, a person of authority that he somehow respected and even loved. _Love. _Toki swallowed and licked his lips, peered up at the calmly sitting man. "I _needs _it." he repeated, his hands traveling up to touch Ofdensen's cheek. The other man shied away and pushed back in his chair in a desperate attempt to get Toki to stop.

"My decision is final." he said, almost in frustration. "Now please leave my office."

"Nos." Toki said stubbornly, "Because you don't really wants me to go."

Ofdensen frowned and arched a brow. "What are you talking about? Of course I want you to-" he was cut off as Toki fell into his arms and hugged him. For a long while they just sat there both indulging in each other's embrace—it wasn't often that _any _affection was shown towards Ofdensen, and he had to admit that he actually found it a nice change of pace. In a moment the guitarist was fully taking advantage of the other man's willingness, because he slipped his hands into Ofdensen's and smiled wistfully. If only this was Skwisgaar right now, then he'd be happy. Ofdensen shifted uncomfortably in his seat, tried to squirm out of the embrace. "Toki, what are you-"

"I'm sorrys I've been bad lately."

"It's fine, but I still think that you should go."

Toki peered up at him, his pale eyes shining brightly in the light of the office. "Do you hates me? I think that everyone hates me now after what I did to Skwisgaar."

"No, of course I don't hate you."

"Good. I don't hate you eithers." he stood up but didn't leave; instead he kissed Ofdenesn right there. It was a hot kiss, one full of unexpected lust and passion. It ended quickly, though, as the manager forced Toki's tongue out of his mouth and pushed him away. The Norwegian stood there for a while panting, biting his lower lip, waiting for the punishment that was sure to come.

Finally Ofdensen turned around in his chair, wiped his mouth, and said coldly, "I think it would be best if you left now, Toki. Perhaps you can still do your solo, but I'd really like you to consider the thought of a therapist, alright?" he spoke to the other man as if he were a child. The Norwegian didn't mind, though.

He just nodded and said, his voice cracking unexpectedly, "J-Ja, sures. Do you wants me to-"

"Don't tell anyone about what you just did."

"I won'ts."

"Good, now go."

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Toki's first instinct was to retreat back into his room, and so he did. For the next two hours all he did was practice until he heard a knock at his door. Annoyed at having to stop, he yelled, "What do you wants? I'm busy!"

"We need to talk, dude."

The Norwegian's face grew red when he realized who it was. "Alrights, if you still ams my friend."

In a moment Pickles had come into his room with a small, shy smile on his face. He closed the door gently then went over and sat next to the guitarist on the bed. "Don't be stupid; you and me'll always be cool."

"Buts after I-"

"Please don't bring 'dat up again." the drummer said, sounding distressed. " 'Cause it's all I've been able to think about for the past few days, and the more I think about it the more I start to regret nat doin' anything to you."

Toki's face grew redder as he laid down his guitar and asked, "What ams you mean? You regret nots sleepings with me?"

"Yeah, I do." Pickles sighed and breathed almost longingly, "I _really _do."

The Norwegian perked up at this. He reached for the drummer's hand and said charmingly, "That offer ams still good if you really wants to dos m-"

"No! I...I just..." he shook his head and swallowed, clearly unnerved by the current situation. "That's nat why I'm here. I'm here because I've been noticin' some things about you that I don't like—that _none _of us like."

"You means like Skwisgaar?"

Pickles frowned at this question. "No, this ain't about him, it's about just you and me, that's it. Nobody forced me to come up here or anything."

Toki raised a brow in confusion. To him everything—the whole world—seemed to be about Skwisgaar. Everything revolved around him like the Earth revolved around the sun, so if the Swede hadn't made the drummer come up here, then who had? "What ams this about? Are you trying to talks me out of my solo?"

"No, I think you should do the solo." he said, gently taking one of the guitarist's bandaged hands. He observed it for a long while, played with some of the gauze that it was wrapped in, then sighed almost sadly. "You hands, they used to be so soft. That's my problem."

"That I don't haves soft hands no more? _That _ams your—Pickle, what ams you doing?" he cried in wonderment as the drummer began unbandaging his hands. "Don'ts, don't looks at them! They're-"

"_This," _Pickles said, staring down at Toki's unwrapped, gnarled hand. "is my problem." then he stared into the Norwegian's eyes and whispered in an almost betrayed way, "Your breath smells like the expensive stuff Ofdensen drinks."

"He—he called me in to talks earlier today and I drank a few glasses ofs it." he lied, looking away. "It ams no big deal." The redhead shut his mouth and brought Toki's cut and horribly raw hand up to his lips; he kissed it lightly, brushed his lips along the palm and each newly bleeding fingertip. When he was done the other man was trembling, nearly crying. "Why did you dos that?"

"Because," he said, still holding Toki's hand. "I love you, and ain't nothin' can change that, but sometimes I worry..." he brushed aside some of the guitarist's newly blond hair and repeated in an undertone, "I really worry."

"Don'ts." he responded, trying to pull away. All of this new attention was too much. He didn't deserve it, didn't want it from anyone that wasn't Skwisgaar. Pickles seemed to understand this, but still he didn't desist. Instead he only tried harder.

"Dude," he said, touching the guitarist's cheek delicately, "I worry about you so damn much. You're nat okay, no matter how much you think or say you are, I can tell."

"How can you tells?"

"Because I know you." gently he wrapped an arm around Toki's waist and pulled him into a loose embrace—although he was still not backing down in his attempt to show an almost overwhelming amount of affection towards the guitarist, he was behaving very timidly, being careful not to scare the other man into running off. "I know you better'n anybody else, don't I?"

Toki, seduced by the sudden attention that he had craved for so long, let out a little content sigh and nodded. "Ja, sures you do."

"And I know you good enough to tell when something's wrong with you—I love you, dude. You know that, right?"

"Sure."

"Then don't you think that you can trust me?" he pulled away, let Toki stare into his eyes. "You know I wouldn't hurt you, right?"

He couldn't help but to nod, totally powerless to that part inside of him that wanted to be talked to like this, so tenderly and with that air of utter and unyielding affection; yes, he wanted this, to be touched so lightly and sweetly like this, to just be held and know that everything was somehow going to work itself out. He wanted this—from Skwisgaar. "N-No," his voice was quaking with emotion. Yes, he supposed that he did love the drummer, though not nearly as much as he loved Skwisgaar. "you wouldn't hurts me."

"Then listen, please." the pleading got his attention, and soon the guitarist was letting Pickles hug him a little tighter. "You're the best guitarist in the world, but what you're doin' to yourself is scarin' me. Your hands, your hair...there's something that's not right about you no more, and I don't know what it is, but I just hope you know how much you mean to me—to everybody. We all really love you dude, and I want you to be happy, but not if it means that you're hurtin' yourself."

"Okays." he whispered, closing his eyes and drowning in Pickles' warmth. The other man was such a welcome comfort, such a perfect escape from his world. _Gods, _Toki thought, _I wish that Skwisgaar would holds me like this...I wish he would tells me that he loved me, but he doesn't...nobody does, not even Pickle... _"Pickle?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do you loves me?"

He didn't even need a moment to think before responding with, "I don't need a reason, I just do, and I feel bad for other people like Skwisgaar."

"Whys?"

Pickles smiled, kissed the top of Toki's head, and murmured, " 'Cause when they look at you I don't think they see what I do. You're the best person in the world, Toki, but I don't think that they can really see it...like all your stupid fans, they just look up to you as one of the world's greatest guitarists. They can't see what I see, and I feel bad for them."

He tried to end the hug, but the Norwegian pulled him back and asked timidly, "Just one mores second?"

"Sure." he said, hugging Toki again, this time even closer. "Hey, dude?"

"Ja?"

"Don't lose yourself, okay?"

He didn't really know what this meant, but he knew that Pickles had said it with love in his voice, so he nodded. "Okays, I won't."

"You promise?"

"Ja," Toki said, feeling the drummer plant another kiss atop his blond head. "I promise."

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_Vart tog min gamla Toki vägen?  
__[Where did my old Toki go?]_

_Unna.  
__[Away.]_

_När kommer han tillbaka?  
__[When will he be back?]_

_Aldri.  
__[Never.]_

_Aldri._

_Aldri._

_Aldri._

_Jeg er feilfri. Jeg er en Gud nå. _His mind was totally gone from the world around him. He'd disappeared. He was back in Norway, trying to remember a time when his family had said that they loved him. He could remember none. Never once had he been told that he was loved. His parents had never even hugged him or told him that he was good at anything, just sent him to do his regular chores every day. He really did hate them and the rest of the world for some reason, but why? He'd never known love before, so how could he hate them for not loving him when he didn't even know what the word meant?

Toki tried, he really did, to give 'love' to other people. He tried to earn hugs and compliments, but it was so damned hard sometimes. Usually he couldn't even think about one thing that he liked about himself, not even one. He was just too fucked up. He didn't deserve love or any of that other make-believe bullshit. The world wasn't a _loving _place. It wasn't good or friendly or warm. He didn't forgive anything. All those horrible memories of his past life had come rushing back to him and he felt wretched.

Like now, when all he had the energy or the will to do was curl up in a ball on his bed, close his eyes, and mutter, "Stupids, stupids, stupids..."

And he kept muttering insanely until he was fast asleep, drowning in the thoughts of his own slowly eroding sanity. He slept for hours, trapped in that hellish word of his old country, but there came to him a dream that was unlike any other he'd ever had before. It made him wake up sweating, gasping for breath, praying for Skwisgaar.

He was laying in an open field. It was night outside, and around him darted tiny fireflies. Toki smiled and looked up at the gently glowing moon. It smiled down at him, full and cheerfully smiling, but it was the only light in the entire black velvet of the sky. There were no twinkling stars, no clouds or anything. The sky seemed fake and glossy, as if it'd been painted there with black nail polish. Toki frowned, but before he really had time to think about the lack of stars, there came a warm, platinum-white light off to his left. He turned and looked. What he saw made him gasp.

"Skwisgaar!"

The Swede stood there in the middle of the field of jet-black, tall grass, shining and glowing like nothing else Toki had ever seen. It took a moment for him to realize just where the light came from; it was the stars. Skwisgaar was surrounded by every single star in the sky, and his once golden hair was intertwined with the twinkling pixels of light.

Toki got to his feet and watched as Skwisgaar walked up to him, smiling. "Tokis," he said, his voice a sort of sullen whisper. He almost seemed to be saddened by something. "I loves you."

"I...I..."

"Toki?"

"Ja?" he asked as the Swede wrapped his long, thin arms around his torso and pulled him close. In a moment he was surrounded in that white-light, but it wasn't as he had expected it to be. It was cold and distant, like something he could never have. It was odd, but that was the only way Toki could describe it as he asked softly, "Skwisgaar, why ams you here?"

He said nothing for a moment, and in an instant he was standing before Toki completely naked and exposed, his body glistening with that wonderfully silver light. Toki's pale eyes grew wide. "You ams so beautiful..."

The Swede pressed a starry hand to the Norwegian's cheek and smiled sadly. "Toki, I can'ts take this."

"Are you real?" Toki asked. "Or ams I just dead?"

"Here." Skwisgaar leaned forward and kissed him deeply, his tongue entering the Norwegian's mouth. It was too brief; as soon as Toki let out a moan, let his hands bury themselves in Skwisgaar's liquid golden hair, it was over. The Swede pulled away and asked, "Do you thinks you ammnest dead now?"

He shrugged. "Maybe I'm just in heavens."

Skwisgaar's response to this was to take Toki's hand and press it against his naked chest, let him feel the steady, unwavering beat of his heart. Never failing. Never stopping. A smile grew across the Norwegian's face and he hugged Skwisgaar, nearly sobbing in his happiness. "You ams alive! I-"

"Toki, what you ammnest doing to yourself...it's tearing me aparts."

He looked up at him, saw the sorrowful look on Skwisgaar's face, and asked, "What?"

"Looks." the Swede took Toki's hand and ran his thumb over his index finger; a sharp blast of pain shot thru him and he looked down at his fingers. His nails were gone, picked down to the quick, nothing but a mess of bloodied, exposed, and raw flesh. Toki's eyes grew wide.

"I'm hurtings myself?"

"Toki, you gots to stop this, what you're doing," Skwisgaar said, holding his hand tightly. "You're killing yourself."

"Nos," he insisted, "I'm not."

"It tears me apart." and he pressed one of his bony, slender hands to his bare chest, right over where his heart should have been. In an instant blood was running between his fingers, glistening as if it were made of diamonds that had been molded together. Toki gasped and tried to grab his hand away, make all the bleeding stop, but as Skwisgaar removed his hand, all that could be seen was a hallow space where his heart had been. With a tired, dying sigh he whispered, "I loves you so much, but sometimes it hurts."

"No," Toki begged as he took the other man's arm and held it tight, tried to get him to stay. Some horrible feeling inside of him said that Skwisgaar was going to leave him forever, going to disappear. "don't go nowheres! You can't die! Please don't-" but it was too late. The Swede was already fading, the twinkling stars burning themselves out with one last blinding bit of light. Then he was gone. Toki was left alone by himself in the cold dark of the night, with Skwisgaar's shimmering blood running thru his fingers.

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He dreamed this until there came a knock at his bedroom door. Toki let out an exhausted little, "Uh..." and the door opened.

"Toki," it was Ofdensen. "we have a concert in a few hours; I thought you might have forgotten, so-"

"Outta my way, dude. Oh, sorry, I-"

"Quite fine, just make sure that he's up and moving around within the next hour, alright?"

The soft clinking of dishes could be heard; it was accompanied by the warm, comforting smell of food. Toki rubbed his eyes and pulled the covers up above his head, desperate to go back to sleep. The voices didn't go away, though. Instead Pickles just said, "Yeah, yeah, he'll be up, just piss aff."

"Fine. Thank you, then."

There came the sound of a closing door and foosteps echoing down the hall outside; Pickles pressed a hand to Toki's cheek. He brushed some blond hair away from the guitarist's face and smiled down at him as he took a sip from his own cup of coffee.

"Mornin', dude. Are you ready?"

"Ready?" he sat up and rubbed his head. "Fors what?"

"For the concert. You're playin' your solo today, dude!"

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****A/N****

**YES, I AM BACK...temporarily. Since the summer's about to come, my mother has gotten a little lax with making sure I'm off the computer at all times. I'm updating this story and planning to finish it soon...hopefully. I'm sorry, but everything's a little uncertain right now. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and please, please, please review it. I'm desperate to hear from you all again.**

**In my long break from writing fanfic, I've come up with at least 10 new Pickles-Toki story ideas. Hope you guys look forward to more of my writing. ^.^ **


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